Five times Grif was afraid to comfort Simmons, and the one time he fi
by Alaska McCormick
Summary: Thanks Yin for another lovely prompt to write out :) Have fun reading what I made out of it :) Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the characters.


**_One_**

The first time Grif should have comforted Simmons was shortly after his arrival at Blood Gulch.

Simmons and Sarge had already been there together, Grif arriving shortly after.  
The orange armored soldier soon realized during his time at the outpost that Simmons was a suck-up extraordinaire and always wanted to desperately please his commanding officer.

That was, until, about five days after Grif showed up.

He showed clearly what he thought of having been drafted when Sarge was bellowing at Simmons for not having done the maintenance on the Warthog.

Sure, Grif felt just a bit bad for being so lazy and for not having done his tasks, which had led to Simmons having to do his tasks on top of Grif's too. That was why he hadn't been able to do the maintenance on the vehicle, which had resulted in the Warthog subsequently breaking down at the exact same time that Sarge had decided that they needed to start an assault.

Well, he still decided on being a lazy asshole in the end just to make sure that the people who drafted him would regret it.

That it would backfire and that Simmons ended up being on the receiving end wasn't planned, but Grif didn't really care.

…That was until he retreated to his bunk after he was cleared for the night.

Passing by the bathroom, he heard what sounded like glass splintering and low sobbing which sounded oddly like Simmons.

Grif stopped, listening to make sure something really was happening or to decide if he was just imagining it.

When he didn't hear any more noise, he thought that he had probably imagined the sounds and the sobs.

He continued his trek to the bunk to crash.

He forgot about comforting Simmons completely.

 ** _Two_**

The second time that Grif should have comforted Simmons was soon after Grif had woken up from the surgery where he became half of Simmons and Simmons became a cyborg.

Grif was lying in bed, still drugged up and trying to fall asleep again since that meant that he wouldn't feel as much pain anymore as he did right then.

His whole body hurt and he felt like every one of his stitches was burning up. He only hoped that he wouldn't get an infection. As good as lying around and slacking off was, being in pain and having a possible infection wasn't worth the slacking off.

When he was awake one night, he could hear Simmons moving around.

The cyborg had been looking after him during the last few days, but right now Grif realized that the cyborg wasn't as well as he pretended to be during their banters whenever Grif was up for it.

Now, he could hear small sobs coming from the cyborg, as well as some bustling around. Soon after, he heard the telltale sound of a syringe being injected.

The sobbing didn't stop for another half an hour, but after thirty minutes in which Grif hoped he would get a knock-out too, the sobbing stopped and the breathing became regular.

Ever since Donut had arrived, Grif and Simmons had been forced to bunk together. Now, it was some kind of a blessing and a curse all at the same time.

He was happy to hear whether or not Simmons was alright, and the cyborg certainly felt the same now that he had to monitor the injured Hawaiian.

All the same, it was a curse since you never have time for yourself unless you go AWOL and get it there.

There was constantly someone around him and it could get annoying.

It wasn't really all that surprising that Simmons and Grif weren't only bantering, but that they were often used to having arguments about stuff they didn't agree with each other on.

In the end, they had gotten used to each other, but during the first couple of days and weeks, it had been horrible.

Closing his eyes when he heard the automatic pain dispenser inject another dose of the good stuff, the Hawaiian waited for the effects to take place.

When he felt the medication kick in, he felt the woozy good feeling that soon enough made him drift off to sleep.

He forgot about comforting Simmons completely.

 ** _Three_**

The next time that Grif should have comforted Simmons was when they were trapped under the sands with two crazy ex-Freelancers running around and looking for something.

So, they had nothing else to do than to sit on their asses and wait for the situation to calm down.

What was special was the fact that Tucker was with them and with Tucker was Junior, Tucker's son and a fucking huge alien.

He was still young, but he already was almost fully grown, having a height of six feet and four inches. Tucker said something about Junior probably growing another six inches before he reached his final height.

The moment that Simmons saw the Sangheili standing there, wearing his blue and teal armor, he started backing down until he was crowded in the farthest corner of the room.

Sure, they all new Junior when he was a kid, but then he was roughly the height of Kai, so they were still bigger than him. Now the alien kid was a head bigger than everyone, if not more.

It was fucking intimidating, to be honest: the height and the dangerous look the young alien had when wearing his battle armor and his weapons.

He had absolutely nothing in common with the kid that Tucker and the others were raising only mere years ago, before they had to separate and Tucker was taking up his ambassador tasks that the Sangheili Republic had asked him to in order to brush up their connections with the human civilization.

The Sangheili, as well as the humans, wanted to understand each other better so that they could soon lay down their weapons and start peace talks whenever the time was right. Both parties were tired of fighting this pointless war.

However, here in reality, Grif was standing in the room observing how Tucker was interacting with the kid. The other man was totally proud of his offspring, although he had screamed the fucking walls down when the birthing throes had kicked in all those years ago.

Grif thought of how it would be to have kids of his own, but living in a war zone made it pretty much impossible to have a kid.

Knowing this alien didn't help Simmons from not becoming nervous.

Grif knew by now that Simmons had grown up in a colony somewhere further away which had gotten attacked by aliens.

He knew Junior, of course, but back then he had been a kid and not as dangerous looking as he was now. So, seeing the alien standing there must have brought up some horrible memories for the redhead.

Standing there he still observed the alien and his dad interact, listening to the strange sound of the Sangheili language that they used to converse. He knew the sound of the language for years now like everyone else in the crew did, but only Tucker was able to understand and speak it fluently, thanks to having had Junior.

Standing there and debating the odds of the alien really being as dangerous as he looked or if he still was the kid they used to know, he kept an eye out for the cyborg. He still was sitting in the corner and trying his hardest not to have another panic attack.

Seeing the redhead sitting there, Grif determined that he was all right and wouldn't need any additional help such as Grif showing up by his side and helping him out.

Instead, he focused back on the alien and his dad, deciding that Junior was both a dangerous warrior as well as the kid that he used to know.

He forgot about comforting Simmons completely.

 ** _Four_**

The fourth time that Grif should have comforted Simmons was when they were in Valhalla and Simmons openly made a fool out of himself.

The Hawaiian was extremely impressed and a bit proud of Simmons for pulling through with his voice only quivering slightly.

Of course, Grif would never admit it openly that he felt his heart swelling and that he had this odd sense of pride making him smile fondly underneath his helmet.

In the evening, when they both were in their room that they were once again sharing, he could hear Simmons sob into the pillow.

Obviously, Simmons wasn't as cool with what he had to do at Blue Base and taking the blame for having lost all the equipment to Wash.

Given that the cyborg was such a suck-up, both taking on the blame from Sarge as well as the name and shame thing he had to do shortly after were devastating blows to his confidence.

The Hawaiian could tell that the redhead was struggling with taking on the blame from Sarge.

Grif had observed Sarge bellowing at Simmons while the redhead, being bigger than his CO by more than a head, became smaller and smaller with each word jabbed at him. When Sarge stalked off, the cyborg was standing there, still staring at the ground.

Grif was just about a step away from going over and getting the redhead moving again with some well-aimed words, when he saw Simmons shake himself out of his mental reverie. Only moments later, he heard Sarge shouting for Donut, Grif, and Lopez to go over to get their shit back.

The name and shame campaign he had to go through, which they all had to really, he knew that Simmons was struggling with it the most. It was worse for the cyborg.

Grif could tell by the way he was squaring his shoulders that he was struggling with his instincts to just run the fuck away and never return. He was grasping the machine gun so tightly that his left hand left indents in it – well, they would have to order a new one for him soon then.

When Simmons said his piece, he fell silent and this silence did not break for the rest of the day.

When they loaded up all their stuff on the Warthog, Simmons hopped in the back to operate the gun located there, not saying a word the whole time that they were driving home.

Grif didn't really have time to talk to the cyborg since he had to focus on driving back the short distance to their base.

In the evening, Grif lied down in his bunk and listened to the low sobs slowly becoming quieter until they stopped completely. They were replaced by soft and regular breathing, indicating clearly that Simmons was asleep and probably would stay like that for the rest of the night.

Grif felt at ease when he heard the regular breathing continue, only to be interrupted by a low shuddering breath every once in a while.

Turning around, he closed his eyes, listening to the regular breathing of the cyborg on the other side of the room and drifted off too.

He forgot about comforting Simmons completely.

 ** _Five_**

Another time that Grif should have gotten his lazy ass up and comforted Simmons when he was having trouble was during the second night after they had arrived at the Rebels' base on Chorus.

Simmons had already told him it once when they were sitting under the stars in Blood Gulch and talking about their recent surgery, after Simmons became partially cybernetic and Grif became… well, partially Simmons.

Simmons had told him that the places where metal meets his skin and flesh would often hurt with changes in the air pressure.

Luckily, the weather in Blood Gulch was rather stable and no massive and sudden shifts in air pressure were happening, so Simmons was able to live there practically pain-free.

However, here on Chorus, drastic shifts were rather normal. They were living in a place where it could be hot and humid – which was weather that Simmons detested because of his cybernetics – to dark clouds showing up and it starting to rain not even thirty minutes later – which Simmons hated too given the changes in air pressure that the sudden happening caused.

During the day, Simmons' armor would notice the pain level and help Simmons out by injecting some pain medication to make the pain of the air shift more bearable.

However, during the night, he didn't have his armor on unless he was working through the night.

Recently, Kimball had gotten extremely insistent on Simmons really sleeping during the night since he often would fall asleep during meetings because he used to work through the night.

Which led to Simmons now squirming in his bunk, whimpering and sobbing quietly because of the sudden and drastic shift of air.

Grif could already hear the thunder rolling over the mountains surrounding three parts of the base.

On top of that, although not being too sensitive to the shifts in air pressure, he could feel the change of the air pressure and how a sudden gust of wind brought the smell and promise of rain with it.

Simmons whimpered again, low sobs coming from the redhead.

Grif decided against going over to him.

First, he probably would hurt Simmons more than help him since he would touch Simmons and probably end up lying on one of his limbs. Second, when he would walk over Simmons would deny being in pain and probably run away to work during the night.

So, Grif decided against going over and instead rather let the redhead suffer through it alone and hopefully fall asleep later on when the shift of the air pressure subdued and became more stable again.

When the first thunder rolled around, Grif was already fast asleep and not hearing Simmons' whimpers anymore.

He forgot about comforting Simmons completely

 ** _One_**

Another day, another catastrophic test run for the Blood Gulch Crew and their Lieutenants.

Tucker had insisted on them making that test run with their Lieutenants to show Kimball that they and their Lieutenants were ready for the fight against the Feds to free their friends currently being held captive.

The Hawaiian was sure that Tucker imagined it being as easy as a breeze, them walking through gloriously like they were meant to do.

Essentially, they were failing horribly.

Palomo was constantly filming Katie Jensen, or more her ass, while the girl was managing to somehow set a Warthog on fire. Bitters wasn't even participating, although their Captains were all trying their hardest.

Caboose had wandered off and Smith had to go after him to get him back.

Worst, however, was Simmons.

He was screaming himself hoarse from trying to get them to work together, Jensen getting nervous because of that and setting said Warthog on fire.

Caboose walking away was also because of Grif and Bitters refusing to help.

In the end, Grif realized, he was being kind of a dick because Simmons was only trying his best to get them to pass the exam.

In the end, it turned out to be a huge fiasco.

Kimball cancelled the test run after only ten minutes, saying that she wouldn't let the Blood Gulch Crew leave like that with them being so off-tune and a mess.

Tucker, who had been hassling Kimball for the past few days and doing his best to try to pass the exam was horribly pissed off.

The moment that Kimball was gone, the Lieutenants had hauled ass to get away from their Captains as they had a feeling that Tucker would explode at any second.

The dark-skinned man ripped off his helmet, his blue eyes sparking with anger as they zoned in on Simmons.

After five minutes of Tucker shouting and screaming at Simmons constantly and said maroon-armored man getting smaller and smaller in the process and probably wishing to be swallowed by a hole in the ground, the teal-wearing soldier stalked off while smacking the door to the training area shut forcibly in the process.

Grif could see that Simmons was starting to shake and that this shaking was getting worse with every passing second.

Grif knew only too well that Simmons was about to break down and that he was beating himself up about the test run having been a failure.

Without another word, the Hawaiian grabbed Simmons by his human upper arm and took off to their shared bunks.

Twenty minutes later, they were both showered and wearing their civvies.

Simmons sat on the bunk, still shaking like a leaf. He was extremely pale, paler than usual, and his knuckles were white from him grasping the bedsheets so tightly.

Without another word, Grif sat down beside the redhead and rested an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in.

Talking would only send Simmons into his Flee Mode, with him trying to get away as far as possible from any human being around him while he was in the process of breaking down.

So, Grif figured that with him sitting there and simply offering a possibility for Simmons to feel better without having to talk probably was the best way to get Simmons to calm down.

Moments later, Grif could feel Simmons shift and turn around slightly until he was leaning fully against Grif. He was grasping his shirt and drawing shuddering breaths every once in a while.

The Hawaiian sat there, resting his other arm around the cyborg and simply waiting for the redhead to calm down. He wouldn't tell him to calm down, instead he would simply wait until Simmons could do so by himself.

This time, Grif didn't forget about comforting Simmons. This time he was there for the redhead and would make sure that he would feel better again.


End file.
